


kiss me quick

by harlequin87



Series: RWC 2019 [3]
Category: Rugby Union RPF
Genre: Coming Out, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-29
Updated: 2019-09-29
Packaged: 2020-11-16 13:16:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,852
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20821901
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/harlequin87/pseuds/harlequin87
Summary: Alun Wyn Jones kisses George North. Sam Warburton has something to say about it.





	kiss me quick

**Author's Note:**

> Title taken from the song of the same name by Elvis.

Sam didn’t even notice it until Michael Lynagh commented in his Australian drawl, “Did you know about those two, Gareth?” Alfie – bless his heart – stalled for time until the technicians had pulled up the clip to replay.

Sam blinked. On the screen were George – his George – and Alun Wyn – kissing. He shook his head slightly. It must have been the stress of the game making him hallucinate. It was only the briefest of glimpses, anyway. Maybe he was being paranoid. The Welsh captain was the straightest of straight arrows, and George would never do something like that.

He turned to Alfie. “Are you seeing this as well?”  
“Yes, butt. I reckon they’re just overexcited with the win. Nothing serious about it.” Sam relaxed with a smile, but a tiny shiver ran down his spine when he registered Alfie’s interested look. “Don’t think there’ll be any problems for his partner,” Alfie continued, a twinkle in his eye.

The technicians were debating whether to replay the clip after the ad break, mercifully taking Michael’s attention away from the two Welshmen’s interaction. “That’s good,” Sam said, nodding at Alfie as a way of confirmation. “That would be an awkward phone call. ‘Sorry, love, I’m leaving you for Alun Wyn’.” They both chuckled, then straightened their faces as the countdown from the ads began.

Sam bluffed his way through the remaining segments, physically in a television studio in Kent but mentally in a crowded locker room in Tokyo. He’d quickly found the video online and watched it through. It was obvious that it was an accident; George could kiss better than that, he knew from experience. It didn’t mean that he wouldn’t have some fun with it, though.

Once Mark had finished his closing speech imploring the viewers to watch Scotland play Samoa the next day, Sam stood up and unhooked himself from the mike kit. “Pleasure being with you, gents,” he said, shaking Michael and Mark’s hands. He turned to Alfie.

“Give me a minute, and I’ll be right with you,” the older man said, locking eyes with Sam. He nodded obediently and wandered out into the corridor, fingers already automatically pulling up George’s contact on his phone screen.

He loitered in the passageway for a long moment. Perhaps he should have been more concerned about divulging his relationship to someone without discussing it with George first, but it was Gareth Thomas of all people. If anyone knew about secrets, it was him.

“Sam,” Alfie said, clapping his hand on Sam’s shoulder. “I just wanted to check – you and George, right?” Sam nodded, not trusting his voice. The other man was basically a stranger: they had a sexuality, nationality and former career in common, but they weren’t friends by any measure. Alfie’s warm smile stilled his nerves.

“Congratulations,” Alfie said. “I can’t believe I didn’t see it before. It makes sense.”  
“Thanks,” Sam choked out. “Please don’t tell anyone – I didn’t mean for this to happen. George – I – we’re not ready to come out yet. We really appreciate all you’ve done, but we aren’t ready.”

“Don’t worry, mate,” Alfie replied. “It’s yours to tell. And I know you know this – but it gets better. Once he retires, nobody will care about you and you can live in peace.” He smiled wryly. “At least, most of the time.”  
Sam pulled him into an impulsive hug, surprising even himself. “Thanks, Alfie. It’s been easier the last couple of years already, without me playing. I’m almost looking forward to it.”

“How long? If you don’t mind me asking…”  
“Coming up on four years,” Sam said proudly, pushing out his chest. "Just after the last World Cup.”  
Alfie whistled. “That’s impressive. Well, I wish you two luck.”

“Thanks, Alfie,” Sam said, a warm glow in his chest as the other man walked away. It wasn’t a long conversation, but it felt momentous. The first person to know outside of their close circle of friends and family. And of course it had to happen in a deserted corridor of a TV studio in Kent, while George was living it up in Japan.

Thinking about his partner, the glow in his chest increased. He tapped on the screen to ring George. “Hello, love,” he said once the call connected. “Congratulations – you did so well!” He tipped his head back against the wall to listen to the response.  
“Thanks, babe,” George shouted over a background rumble of music and yelling. “Hang on-” there was a shuffling noise and the volume decreased- “I’ve just gone into a physio room. We can talk now.”

“The boys looked good,” Sam said, mischief creeping into his voice. “Especially Alun Wyn.”  
“Oh yeah, he had a great match,” George said uncertainly.  
“How’s he as a kisser?” Sam asked, grinning to himself. He hoped nobody walked past him, leaning against a wall alone and smiling like a fool.

George spluttered incoherently for a second before collecting himself. “You saw that, did you?” he said, resigned.  
“Yes, babe,” Sam smirked. “The whole studio did. Which means our millions of viewers did too.” Distantly, he heard his partner groan. “Don’t worry, though,” he continued brightly, “everyone thinks it’s very sweet. Dedication to Wales in its physical manifestation as our great leader.”

“I didn’t mean to,” George muttered. “I was going for the cheek and so was he. And they got it on camera. The team think it’s hilarious.”  
Sam shrugged, pressing the phone closer to his ear. “I don’t mind, Georgie. You can tell from the look on your face that you weren’t expecting it.”  
“Okay. That’s good. I didn’t want you to be mad.”  
“I’m not, baby. Do you think you could put Alun Wyn on, though? We can have some fun with this.”

George seemed to perk up. “Are you going to give him the shovel talk? That’d be hot.”  
Sam laughed. “No – that would imply that you two are actually involved. It’s more of the reverse. Hands off my man, you know.”  
“That’s hot too,” George said fervently. “I’ll go and get him, then put you on speaker.” Sam composed himself, listening to the murmuring of the locker room from six thousand miles away.

“Sam?” Alun Wyn Jones’s voice filtered through the speaker. “George said you wanted to talk to me.” The most capped Welsh player of all time sounded nervous, Sam reflected smugly.  
“Uh, yeah, I just wanted to clear up something from earlier.”  
“Yes…?”

“You do know that George and I are together, right?”  
“Of course. I hope I haven’t done anything to make you think I don’t support you both fully.”  
“Well, there’s the small matter of kissing my partner on international television.” He let the statement hang in the air, relishing George’s stifled giggles in the background.

“Um.” The lock seemed lost for words. “I won’t deny that it happened. But it was an accident, I promise.”  
“Are you saying that George isn’t a catch?” Sam said archly.  
“No,” he stammered. “He’s – he’s a lovely lad.”  
“But he’s my lovely lad, isn’t he?”  
“Yes, Warbs. He’s yours.”

Sam had to bite his lip hard to keep from laughing, but George didn’t have as much success. “Good talk, mate,” he said, trying desperately to maintain his composure and distract Alun Wyn from George’s muffled hysterics. “Glad we could see eye to eye – captain to captain, you know.”  
“That’s alright,” he said uncomfortably. “I’ll hand you back to – George?”

Sam squeezed his eyes shut, wishing he was in the room to see the captain’s face as realisation hit. “You little shits!” the captain exclaimed. Sam had to cover his mouth to stop his laughter echoing in the empty corridor, and he could tell George was doing the same. “Sam Warburton, you prick! You’d better not have recorded that!”

Tears rolled down Sam’s cheeks and his legs shook as he pictured the enraged man, probably tugging at what little hair he had remaining. “Your face, skips,” George cackled down the line, sending Sam into further paroxysms of laughter. “Sammy doesn’t really care. He was winding you up, that’s all.”

There was a huff, and Alun Wyn’s voice came through the phone, suddenly a lot nearer. “It’s a good thing you’re not playing anymore,” he growled, “or I’d beat you into next week. And George here is too important. You got off lightly this time.”  
Sam grinned. “This time? You mean you’re going to kiss my partner again?” The captain grunted in frustration and Sam could hear his footsteps leaving the empty room.

“He’s gone now,” George said, presumably having turned off speakerphone. “That was epic, babe. He looked genuinely worried – and there’s not many things that scare the mighty AWJ.”  
“Eh, you did your bit too. Good acting from your end, I’d assume.”  
George hummed. “I do my best. Anyway, tell me about your day. You know what I’ve been doing.”

Sam slid to the floor, getting comfortable. The conversation needed to become serious, fast. “Obviously I was covering the match with ITV – Michael Lynagh and Gareth Thomas were there, too.”  
“How is Alfie? The press sounds awful.”  
“He’s keeping his head up. But you know how he’s gay?”  
“Well, duh,” George interjected impatiently. “Get to the point, Sammy.”

Sam coughed, screwing up his courage. “Basically – Alun Wyn kissed you and they replayed it like five times, and he could see it on my face. Bloody gaydar.”  
George sounded concerned when he spoke again. “What do you mean? He wouldn’t say anything, surely.”

“He didn’t,” Sam tried to reassure him. “We kind of – looked at each other, I guess, and he just knew. Came up and asked me afterwards. I couldn’t not tell him. He’s Alfie, for God’s sake.”  
“And he won’t tell anyone?” George’s voice was trembling. “You know how I feel about coming out.”  
“He promised. I trust him. He did the whole ‘it gets better’ speech, which was nice, and I felt a bit better with him knowing. I just wish I could have asked you first,” he added with a sigh. “It was all in a rush.”

“It’s okay,” his partner said slowly. “I understand you couldn’t have done much else, and he’s probably the best person to find out, given the circumstances.” He paused. “It’s done now. Can we talk about something else?”

“Of course, love,” Sam said, relieved to be dropping the topic. One partner is kissed by his captain on live television, the other comes out accidentally to the first out active rugby player: it had been a rollercoaster of a day. “My parents sent me a great photo of the dogs – I’ll forward it to you now…”

Perhaps it was a sign, he reflected. Most people seemed endeared by the sight of two rugby players kissing on the pitch, rather than disgusted. And his relationship had been accepted by Gareth Thomas, an actual gay icon. Maybe it would take George a while longer to come around to his realisation, but, as Sam talked to George, his partner in rugby, life, and everything in between, he thought that the signs were all pointing in one direction.

He couldn’t wait.

**Author's Note:**

> Someone had to do it, let's be honest.
> 
> For reference: [this](https://twitter.com/rugbyworldcup/status/1178300435834294272) video (you know the one) and [this ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8P4PCr3EBFQ)video.


End file.
